If I Never Knew You
by taekwongirl360
Summary: AN/AH-Damon recounts a tragic massacre that happened in his youth...and the girl who turned his world upside down and for the better before it all happened.
1. The Find

_**Hello everyone. Yes, I have a new story to try out. It won't leave my mind at all and I have lots of inspiration for it. Don't worry, I haven't abandoned my other ones, promise : ) This idea just won't leave my head and I had to write it down.**_

_**It is kind of based off of Titanic, but it's different. The title is from the song/movie Pocahontas. And this is an all-human Delena story featuring Damon and Elena from the Vampire Diaries. I own nothing from any of the media I listed above—I do not own Titanic, the Vampire Diaries, or Pocahontas if that's an issue. I'm stating this right off the bat.**_

_**Plot: After a hand-made nude portrait is found, an aged Damon recalls a horrible tragic event in his life. And the girl that changed his life forever before it all happened.**_

_**Enjoy and let me know your thoughts on it, please. Any ideas or help, just let me know : )**_

**If I Never Knew You**

**Chapter 1-The Find**

The yellow dragon machines roared to life as the diggers on the end of it went to work undigging the earth below. Dirt flew everywhere and gathered on the edges of the Forest of Wicker. The sounds of the heavy machinery echoed around the large forest and screamed progress.

Or something else.

Watching all the deconstruction was a man watching with pain and excitement. His name was Alaric Saltzman. He was a doctor with a Ph. D in history. The college he worked for had asked him to do an important assignment of a haunting historical event. Being the eager student and new graduate, he aimed to please his new bosses and volunteered himself for the task.

He was in charge of finding out more about the Mystic Falls Massacre—a terrible tragedy that was the downfall of a once prestigious and progressive small town in the early 1900s.

Over 80 years ago the small town of Mystic Falls, a once proud and progressive town, was sabotaged by a massacre. The poor had uprisen against the unfair rich founding families of the town. According to the history books, not many survived and none of the founding family members had survived at all. There were a few main families back then—the Fells, the Forbes, the Lockwoods, and the Salvatores.. They ruled the town until the poor people on the other side rose up and went against them, killing anyone in their sight. Apparently, the poor were being ignored and treated terribly by the rich, starved and beaten in shameful ways. So the poor of the town decided to kill to get their message across, including the founding families. It quickly got out of control and no one survived that night.

It was a horrific night with men, women, and children alike all dead the following morning. There hadn't really been any historical documents about the town afterwards.

Well, Alaric Saltzman was up to the challenge of uncovering the truths behind that night. He had gathered a team together of builders, examiners, constructions workers for digging like what they were doing now, and a whole team of historical experts including photographers. He had everything he needed.

Unfortunately, his searches had proven futile until now. After two weeks of searching and searching, they had found nothing. Then it all changed. Overnight he had some type of epiphany, some type of prediction to search outside of where the town used to be. It was nothing but a big wasteland now, but forests surrounded the area.

That's why he was digging now. He hoped his dream was real and that they would finally find something out here.

He heard a loud DONG sound come from the ground.

"Hold on, Stop!" he shouted to the worker, waving his arms. He looked into the hole in the ground, searching frantically for the source of the noise.

A flash of metal caught his eye. His smile grew immensely. Looking back at the worker, his eyes blazed with excitement. "Dig up this safe and make sure it's dusted off. I want it in our expedition ground by this afternoon."

…..

A few hours later, the safe was delivered to the expedition sight where his crew was stationed in tents and campground buildings.

The entire crew was almost bursting with excitement. After living in this hellhole for two weeks, they were just as eager to find out what was in it as Alaric himself was. He hoped it wouldn't disappoint them.

One of the crew workers had a large clip that could go through old metal in a snap, literally. Making sure of his care, Dr. Saltzman watched him carefully as the safe was cracked open from the brass lock that was put on it.

Dust came forth in the air from the impact and the oldness of the safe. Once it had settled, Alaric indicated to his crew to wait for him to examine it. Snapping on a pair of gloves, he looked inside the safe.

There was nothing out of the ordinary that he saw right away. There were a few old copies of some books, some letters, and a booklet of some loose-leaf papers.

In other words, there was nothing of importance.

….

"Look, Dr. Hartman, I looked at all the contents of the safe. It's some old records but nothing we didn't already know before…yeah…yeah I know I promised results but I need more time…yes sir…"

As Alaric was talking to his boss on his cellphone, he was walking by one of his photograph specialists who was carefully examining the booklet they had found in the old safe underground. Taking careful consideration of the aged photographs, she was looking through them carefully when Alaric noticed a photograph. A photograph of a man…

"Hold on Dr. Hartman, I'll have to call you back," Alaric whispered, clicking his phone shut and walking over to the examining area.

"What did you find?" he asked her. She pulled the last photograph out of the booklet in the gentlest manner he had ever seen.

What he saw shocked him.

In the photograph was a young man laying on a sofa, naked, one arm across his chest in a provocative manner. He had dark, curly hair and looked to be in his early to late twenties. In one hand, he held a sheet that barely concealed his genital area. You could still see a good portion of his pubic hair and stomach area. Alaric was sure the women would have loved this guy. He was a very handsome man.

But what really struck Alaric were the man's eyes. They seemed to smolder in the photograph, they were the lightest part of the photograph and the only portion of it that was colored a light blue color. Alaric found it amazing that color would have lasted these past 80 years. It was obvious the look he was giving the artist was one that was reserved for a very special person. A look that caused women to go weak in the knees. A lover, perhaps.

As Alaric stared at the photograph, on the bottom left was a date—March 25th, 1900. Right next to that was a name—Gilbert.

Alaric struggled to breathe. This portrait was done on the night of the massacre, right that very night. Probably even a few hours before everything happened. Before hundreds of lives were lost on that fateful night.

"Guys, we might actually have something here," he said with a smile to his crew, who had gathered around him to stare at the portrait. Some were even blushing.

…..

In the town of Chospeak, not far from Mystic Falls, lay an old man in his bed reading. Old and withered with age, his large hands pushed the pages of the book he was attempting to read back and forth until he finally gave up. The television was going off in his room with the news just starting. The old man lay the newspaper down on his nightstand.

Rubbing his face, he was about to shut the television off when he stopped at a story that was just airing.

"**Breaking News: Discovery at Mystic Falls Mines!"**

His grandson, Joseph, stopped by his grandfather's room. "What is it? Did you want something grandpa?" he asked, attempting to clear the plates from dinner.

"Hold on, turn up the TV would you?" the man said in a stunned voice. Joseph looked skeptical but used the remote to turn it up a few notches.

On the screen was a tall, skinny man wearing a jacket. The lady reporter just asked him, "What caused you to want to learn more about the Mystic Falls Massacre? Did something spark your interest as a professor of local history or was it something else?"

The man spoke into the microphone, "I'm Dr. Saltzman, professor of historical events in Virginia. I took this assignment because I've always been fascinated by this tragic event. Not for the hundreds of lives lost, but for the facts and reasons behind the destroying of a town and its civilians. The untold stories may hold the key to figuring out what exactly happened that night. I want to know more."

"And have you found anything of significance that could lead your discovery?" the reporter asked afterwards.

"I have actually. We uncovered a series of portraits from a safe not far from the old town of Mystic Falls. These photographs haven't been seen nor heard of and there is no record of them anywhere. However, all of them are dated back around the time the massacre occurred. This one for example"—he held up part of the photo of the nude man—"was done on the night of the tragedy. No one knows who this man is or if he was even a part of it. But this is only one of the untold stories I hope to explore."

"That's quite a discovery, Dr. Saltzman. You heard it first on channel 5 news folks. And anyone with information to help Dr. Saltzman and his team are asked to call the number at the bottom of the screen-456-555-9801. This is Nancy reporting from the Mystic Falls expedition. Tom, back to you."

The old man was stunned speechless. His breath quickened as he saw the portrait of the man. He hadn't looked like that since…he could barely remember.

"Grandpa, what happened? Are you alright?" Joseph asked his grandfather, concerned about how pale he had gotten.

The old man sputtered. "I…I'm fine Joseph. Could you get me the phone, please? I need to make a phone call."

…

Alaric was just heading to his tent, his head pounding from all the excitement. He had looked through the other portraits, all of which were different. They depicted different people at different times. There was a mother and daughter, a small boy overlooking a pond, and a few other pencil pictures of nature itself. And all of them had the name Gilbert on them in the bottom right corners. He had no idea who this Gilbert person was, but if they were still alive, he'd love to thank them one of these days!

The only picture that really intrigued him was the one of the nude man. It was the most intimate portrait he had ever seen before in his life. He was for sure it had been drawn from real life. And whoever the Gilbert artist was, this was likely his last work. There was no record of anyone with that last name anywhere in the record books. None of it made any sense…

He had just lain down on his bed when his tent opened. In popped the head of one of the younger boys on his staff.

"Sir, there's someone on the phone for you who says that it's urgent. He needs to speak with you."

"Henry, can't you see that I'm trying to rest up here. We have had a long day and we're nowhere near learning anything new. Who the hell is it?" Alaric complained, rubbing his eyes.

"Forgive me, but trust me sir, you're going to want to speak to this man. He's insistent that he talk to you. He has information on the portrait you showed on the news today."

Alaric's eyes popped open. That definitely got his attention!

"Alright, where's the phone?" Henry handed him a cellphone.

"This is Alaric Saltzman speaking." He said in a professional tone.

"Hello Dr. Saltzman. I was just wondering if you had any new information about the tragedy yet? It's fascinating that no one has found any clues," a voice said over the phone. He sounded really old and ragged, a deep voice.

"Look, I don't know who you are or why I should tell you that information. First of all, who the hell are you and why are you calling at this ungodly hour?" Alaric noticed that it was past two in the morning, which was beyond reason at this point—he just wanted answers.

The old man laughed on the other end of the line. "I think it's not what I can learn from you, it's what you can learn from me. I'm calling about the portrait you found earlier because it's a picture of me. My name is Damon Salvatore."

Alaric's eyes widened in surprise. "That's…that's not possible," he whispered. "All the founding families died that night, including all of the Salvatores."

"Well your facts are wrong sir. I have a story like you've never heard before in your entire life. And I'd like to tell it to you, so let me come over there tomorrow and I'll explain everything."

….

**So…good start? Horrible? Let me know.**


	2. Beginning of a Story

_**Wow, almost 10 reviews already! Awesome support you guys. And if you think others will like it, feel free to send a link to them. Writers live for reviews and the more we get, the more we want to update.**_

_**I'll be updating Haven in Your Arms sometime this week—it's going to start getting really good ; )**_

_**Anywho, here you go—chapter 2 of If I Never Knew You.**_

**Chapter 2—The Beginning of a Story**

"Has it ever occurred to you that this crackpot could be a god-damned liar?" shouted Dr. Hartman from the other end of the phone the following morning.

Alaric was only half listening. He was listening to his boss and truthfully, he would have originally thought the same thing. Someone unexpectedly came out about a story for the massacre that no one had really known what happened. The "why" was a little unclear, but it wasn't completely unknown. There were no known survivors at all.

Until now. And the gentleman who called last night, Damon Gilbert, had told him that he used to be known as Damon Salvatore, the oldest son of Giuseppe Salvatore, head of the Salvatore family and the richest man of all the founding families in the town.

Alaric would have laughed too. But something in the man's voice, something sincere and almost begging, told his conscience that this Damon was telling the truth. And he couldn't pass up this opportunity, he just couldn't!

"I'm hearing you sir, and I understand your reluctance. But I've done my research and there is no reason for me to doubt this man. He's coming later today to tell his tale. I'll ask him some questions and if he answers them correctly, it will be him. I really want to hear this story sir. And if anybody can help us solve this mystery, he knows."

Another sigh on the other line. "Damon Joseph Salvatore, 25, died in the massacre just like all the other founding family members. If he had lived, he'd be well over 100 by now or buried in the ground."

"I've checked all records regarding different persons named Damon in the old towns surrounding the areas and elsewhere. The guy who called me is 102, going to be 103 in October next month. None of the others match the age description or anything else regarding this gentleman. The man who called me last night, Damon Gilbert, started living in a town in Minnesota in 1901 when he was 26. That's the only known record of a Damon fitting his description. It has to be him!"

"Then why did he change his name from Salvatore to Gilbert? What the hell is the significance? Maybe he's the one who drew the picture?"

"Sir, the safe was locked tight and it was with another group of drawings. It had to be the same artist. If it is Damon, we'll figure it out eventually. I would assume he changed it to protect his identity—a Salvatore as a lone survivor? That wouldn't have been good for him; people would have wanted him dead," Alaric was just guessing, but it was a big hunch.

"I hope you're right. Call me later after his visit, keep me updated. Record his story, take notes, whatever it is you must. Just keep me informed."

"Yes sir."

…..

Damon looked out the window at the passing trees and road as his grandson drove to the site. Truth be told, he was a little nervous at going back to a place he swore he would never return to ever again. Back then, he was afraid of people recognizing him. Now it didn't matter.

However, there was another reason he was nervous about returning—this was where it all happened, where all his friends and family had died all those years ago. And he became one of the few survivors. Because of _her._

The memories started coming back, the one that had retreated to the very darkest corners of his mind, and now it was starting to resurface. Tears came to his old eyes as he remembered everything. It would take time for his tale, but he was willing to set all records straight—both before and after the tragedy.

Joseph eyed him from the driver's seat. Ever since his grandfather had made that ludicrous phone call to an Alaric Saltzman, he had thought he'd completely lost it. He was insistent on traveling to what used to by Mystic Falls. No matter what Joseph said, logically, his grandfather wouldn't back down at all.

Finally, he could take the silence no longer. "Grandpa Gilbert, are you absolutely sure about this? It's not too late to turn around if you want." He had to try again, both for his sake and for his grandfather's sake. He had just barely caught the news last night and that made his grandfather convinced that this 80-something year old portrait was on him back when his grandpa was in his twenties.

It was totally illogical and unreasonable. And Joseph really wasn't in any mood to listen to a what was sure to be "sexual" story, if that picture had anything to do with it.

When his grandpa didn't answer, he spoke again. "Grandpa, did you hear what I said? Let's turn around."

At this, Damon turned to look at his grandson with a hard look. "Joseph?"

"What?"

"Keep driving. Then do an old man a favor and shut the fuck up."

…..

Soon enough, the van arrived in the campsite right outside of the ruins of the town of Mystic Falls. Alaric and a few of the other scientists were there to greet them.

As a young man, dark brown hair, exited the driver's side, he quickly ran to the other to help an elderly man out of the passenger side. He was an old man, white thick hair on his head, still a slim build.

It was the eyes that caught Alaric's attention. They were an electric shade of blue, the same shade of blue in the portrait. The artist, in his other works, never drew anything with color. But he took the time to get this man's eye color in there.

Yes, this was their guy.

Stepping forward, he reached his hand out. "Hello Damon, I'm Alaric Saltzman, the man you spoke with on the phone last night. Welcome to our little home-away-from-home," he laughed, Damon taking his hand and giving him a good shake.

"The pleasure is mine, Dr. Saltzman."

"Please, call me Alaric. Is there anything I can get you for your stay here today?"

Damon looked up at him. "All I want to see now is my portrait. Then you'll get your story because it's one hell of a tale."

….

_Campsite Artifacts Tent—Half an Hour Later_

Damon's eyes melted when he saw the portrait of himself after all these years. He had changed a lot over the years, but this was a moment stuck in time. He remembered the exact moment when he posed for his portrait. His eyes seemed to glisten as the memories swarmed in his mind. So long ago had this photo been drawn yet he remembered the scene like it was only yesterday.

"You seriously think this is you, grandpa? Are you sure you're not having an episode or what?" Joseph asked, disbelief hanging in his voice as he looked at the picture in the black case.

Damon rolled his eyes noticeably. He loved his children and his grandson to death, but sometimes he could have a really thick skull.

"It just so happens, Joseph, that I am not delusional and I am telling the truth. This photo is one of me, drawn from real life and all," Damon spoke in a dreamy voice. The memories were really coming back to him now—the way he looked when he was 25, the smell of the room, the sexual tension.

The artist who drew it.

_His eyes sparkled when they met hers. Her small, blushing smile foretold her own feelings as her lead pencil stroked over the canvas. _

_The sheet tented as he watched her work her magic. If he thought this was arousing before, it was becoming almost unbearable now._

"_I'm not the only one blushing over here, Ms. Artist. I…see…you."_

Yes, he remembered her most of all. Her chocolate brown eyes glittering in the light, her long, straight chocolate brown hair in a braid as she worked her art of him, her smell, her touch. _God her touch….what she did to get him ready and more confident for posing…_if his dick still worked like it used to, it would be embarrassing for him now. Everything was coming back to him now. Including the love of his life.

His grandson wasn't as easily convinced. "You actually think this is you, grandpa? He looks nothing like you!" Joseph exclaimed looking at the portrait in the case.

"Probably because I've aged a lot since then, but I'm still as big, if you take my meaning," Damon smiled as his grandson turned a deep shade of pink in embarrassment. Everyone else laughed at the joke.

"The experience of having someone draw me was quite an experience. I was a very shy young man, I didn't have much confidence. But she, the woman who drew this, helped me overcome that. She helped me a lot, in more ways than one. And not in just the way all of you are thinking now.

"Will you share it with us? Everyone here is anxious to hear about what really happened," Alaric said in a soft voice.

Damon turned his head to look at the young man in front of him. He didn't look any older than Damon was at the time of the tragedy. It would be a lot for all of them to take in or appreciate if he told them.

"Perhaps, ladies and gentlemen, you'd like for me to set the record straight?"

All of the scientists were eager for information. What could be more entertaining than getting an actual story from a survivor of one of the most violent brawls in the historic streets of Mystic Falls?

Alaric eyed him warily. The rest of his men were just as eager as himself to hear this story. And just looking at the old, withered man in front of him with his bright blue eyes, he knew he was telling the truth. He truly was the man in the photo.

"Tell us Mr. Salvatore," he asked gently, pulling up a chair. The rest of the group was settling into chairs around the room, eager for this tale.

Damon knew this would bring back painful memories. His heart hurt just thinking about it, about her. One of the most painful and wonderful memories of his life. He had been nothing but an empty shell of a man—both before and after everything that happened.

And he had a major story to tell.

So much had changed yet history still lingered there. "It's been over 80 years…"

Alaric spoke in a gentle voice, trying to hide his excitement. "Just try to remember anything at all that you can remember. Anything will help us."

"If you want to hear this, you'll have to stop interrupting me. I haven't stopped aging yet and at the rate you keep asking questions, I could be dead at a moment's notice," Damon said in a hard tone.

That made everyone in the room shut up. All of them were staring intently at the old, withered man in the wheelchair in front of them.

He looked out the window at the remains of his home, the town he had grown up in. "It's been over 80 years, yet I can still see all the buildings. The clock in the tower, the marble streets, my father's paintings in the main drawing room in my family's mansion, my brother Stefan's room. It's all coming back to me now…"

"Mystic Falls was once a very prosperous and uplifting town. It was expected to grow into the next big city in Virginia. That included every occupant's help in the process. However, the founding families soon became very greedy—the Fells, Forbes, Lockwoods, and Salvatores all collaborated about the town and what was expected of it. They left everyone else out of the plans. Because of this, businesses suffered from those who weren't a founding family member. Basically, everyone else in the town suffered. Once the businesses were lost, the money and the earnings people needed to keep their houses and food was gone. Many people became lost, homeless and starving. The town became split into two parts—the poor lived on the west side, the rich founding members on the east."

At this, Damon stopped and looked at the small crowd. All were listening intently.

"That's just the boring back story. Mine begins when I was 25 years old. Let's just say that…I fell in love with an artist from the west side."

…..

Next chapter we're really going to get into the backstory, something I'm looking forward to writing : ) What do you think? Any ideas?


	3. It All Started

_**I know it's been awhile for this one, but I really want to continue this story. So here's chapter 3—a long one. Let me know what you think of it : )**_

**Chapter 3—The Beginning of a Story**

_Mystic Falls—February 1900_

In the middle of a cold, cool winter's day the town of Mystic Falls was bustling with life on the East side. Women and children walked down the streets shopping and playing, the men and women worked the shops and went about their business.

A typical day.

But on the other side of town…the west side, it was a different story. It was a much darker side of town and not at all bustling with life. The streets were muddy and cold, the people living there filthy wearing rags and looking more like walking zombies than anything else. Any passersby would see only a haunted town, a ghost town with the people there looking in shadowed forms and haunted looks by the people living there.

This was a day that changed everything—the start of a change.

A honking of a large black truck made the crowd part in the street as it past them at an alarming speed. Armed guards surrounded the truck wearing helmets and donning rifles.

Suddenly a shot rang out from out of nowhere. One of the guards fell to his death as a swarm of people—men wearing old, raggedy clothing and holding weapons, ran to the supply tuck knocking the guards over one by one to get to it.

Before the guards had time to react, one of the men immediately got behind the wheel, knocking the driver unconscious. The man wore a mask over his face to conceal his identity. Putting the car into motion, he immediately backed it up and drove off into the night.

The remaining guards were able to gain back their line. It wasn't long before they open-fired on anyone that stood in their way. Cries of pain echoed in the street as many of the men were shot everywhere. Their cries and screams of pain echoed even as the guards ran over to their dying frames before shooting them at point-blank range.

The rest of the gang scattered as the guards continued to shoot at anyone who ran from or toward them. Total chaos ensued as the other residents ran to safety in the nearby, although shabby, buildings for protection.

The entire thing lasted about 4 minutes total. In four minutes, about 15 of the townspeople were dead and about 30 others were injured. A few of the guards were also dead, but many of them had escaped.

A young man stood assessing the damage after the fire had burned down slightly. He was looking for survivors from his side of town.

Only to find no one left alive.

….

_One Hour Later_

A bar on the west side was extremely crowded as people from everywhere stood waiting, hoping for good expressions from the earlier raid. People, more specifically the men from this part of town, waited for the leader of the gang, the mastermind behind the food raid from the truck earlier, to speak on their behalf.

A man walked out from behind the counter. Wearing a leather jacket, black pants and boots as well as his short, brown hair slicked back he made his way through the crowd.

The leader of the gang stood up on the stage of the bar, holding his hands up for silence. Immediately he received it.

"My brothers! Comrades! Today went extremely well, despite a setback. The attack on the supply car was a success—we were able to take what food we could and it will be equally distributed amongst us for our families!" the man indicated to the bags and bags of food they had stolen from the supply cart just minutes ago. Applause followed this as the bruised and beaten men hungrily eyed what would sustain them for a little while at least.

He held his hands up to silence the room again. "Unfortunately…many of our own have fallen in this constant battle for equality. It is because of the rich fucking bastards on the east side that we face starvation and extinction! They have it all and toss us the bones! I must ask you—WILL WE CONTINUE TO ALLOW THIS?"

Angry shouts of NO and KILL THEM ALL! Resonated throughout the room. He smirked at the energy of the room.

"I promise all of you this—no matter how long it takes, our fallen members will be avenged! My sister, your brothers, wives, children, all of those who have fallen victim to this unfair way of life the damn "Founding Family" members seem to see fit will not have been in vain! I will personally make sure we survive, or we will DIE TRYING!"

The man stepped down from the podium in the bar to thunderous applause again. He smiled as he walked passed his brother. However, his brother could only give him a grim expression as they looked into each other's eyes.

A young man approached him as he was about to ascend the stairwell that led to the back of the bar.

"Kol, sir, it was an honor to fight for the cause today. I can't tell you how pleasing it is to realize we are actually doing something to solve the starvation problem here," the young man spoke with a little trepidism in his voice.

Kol smiled at him before shaking his hand in a firm grip. "Jeremy Gilbert! The honor is all mine! Yes, it was a small victory. But without sacrifice there would not be a victory. I'm tired of the Fells, Forbes, Lockwoods and especially the Salvatores taking everything from us! Our money became theirs, they take all of our good food supplies for their own and leave us with what's leftover and the guards on that side of town have beaten us for retaliating. Many who are taken prisoner never come back out alive. I thought it was time to make a stand and we did."

Jeremy's young face smirked back. "I promise you that I will do everything I can to help; just say the word and I'll be there!"

Kol smiled at Jeremy's spirit. "I know you won't disappoint me, my brother in arms. We will have vengeance for today, fear not. I'm working on a plan with my brother now that will ensure those rich bastards will not go unpunished for their wrongdoings. Trust me when I say this: It will be a killer of an ending."

…..

_Small apartment building—West Side, a few hours later_

Elena Gilbert sat at her easel, painting the beauty of the budding blooms of a flower cherry blossom tree. This was her favorite pastime because it relaxed her. Running a small hand through her long, chocolate brown tresses she proceeded to brush the pink color of the petals of the tree.

She loved the simple joys in life. She enjoyed working with what she loved—drawing those things that she felt were beautiful or whom she saw as beautiful. Not only could she sell her drawings for a small profit to put food on the table but she enjoyed it as well. She also had a small job as a waitress in the bar on the west side of town that helped them immensely when times were tough.

It was hard to think of a time when times for them were not bad. But she continued her life day by day—that's all she could do now.

Elena Gilbert was in her late teens now. Her parents had died many years ago from an illness, leaving her and her younger brother to fend for themselves. She quickly took on the role of sister and mother, for having no other choice but she had to remain strong for both herself and her brother. They had to figure out a way to survive. And they had.

Over the years she had developed her writing and artistic skills. Her work was eventually discovered and sold at certain parts of the east side of town. When that happened, she was paid and they were okay for another few weeks. This was rare but she was excited whenever it did happen. Other than that, her waitressing at different places helped her and her brother get buy.

As far as her love life went, nothing ever happened.

Sure, many of the men on the west side of town wanted to court and wed her. They thought that since she was a young unwed woman that they could marry her and protect her from what they called "the dark times to come." However, she had no interest in any of them at all. Just the thought of marriage and how it would taint her freedom made her sick.

And she knew times were tough, especially now. She had overheard some of the women in the building talk about the raid on a supply truck earlier that morning and that over 30 people were dead because of it. Thankfully she didn't know or recognize any of the names listed, but it was only a matter of time before it got way out of hand.

The sound of the front door opening caused her to stop mid-stroke.

Her younger brother Jeremy strode through the door to their little shack of a home. She heard his footsteps from his boots stride past her workroom.

"Jeremy!" she called, getting up from her work to see him. Wiping her hands on her small apron, she watched his retreating form heading towards his room.

From his stance, she knew something wasn't right…

"Jeremy, what's wrong?"

No answer.

"Jeremy Michael Gilbert, what the hell are you keeping from me?" Elena glared at her brother's retreating back. She loved him dearly but if he had been part of the fighting from this morning, she herself would be the death of him. Or at least she promised that the last time he participated in one of the fights.

Turning around slowly, Jeremy faced his sister. His face was covered in cuts and there was a bruise forming under his right eye. "Please Elena, don't start with me! I'm not in the mood-"

Elena was already beyond furious. Marching up to her brother, she smacked him across the face. "You were fighting again, weren't you?" she shouted.

Jeremy took the blow but not before glaring at his sister. He loved her just as much but even he couldn't stand her at some points. "Yes…yes I was, dear sister. And what exactly are you going to do about it?"

"Did Kol put you up to this again?" Elena seethed, feeling more furious now than she ever had before now.

Kol was one of the men who wanted her. While he was handsome with soft brown hair and eyes, she knew all about his business. He was one of the fighters, the leader of them to be exact. He wanted to spark a war between the poor and the rich on the east side of town.

"He didn't put me up to anything! I volunteered!"

Elena clapped a hand over her mouth. "No…please tell me…that you didn't! Jeremy, you're going to get yourself killed! Kol doesn't know what he's doing any more than you do! Going up against the most powerful families in the town is not a smart move, brother. What can I do to get that through that thick brain of yours?" Elena asked exasperatedly, sitting down in the nearest chair. Her heart was pounding with both rage at Kol of all people to include her only remaining family member into this ridiculous feuding and now this!

Jeremy immediately felt bad. Leaning down he sat next to her in the chair. "Elena…I'm sorry. I'm just so tired of this crap we've been dealt with. Don't you want a better life? One where we don't have to fight for our lives every single day? That's the reason I'm fighting—not just for Kol's cause, whatever that is, but for us. You and I deserve better than this Elena! I'm just trying to do my part," he explained before storming off to his room, leaving Elena dumbfounded.

Elena continued to stare into space going over everything they had been through. Yes, they had had a hard life but they were doing fine. She didn't want her brother getting involved with something that could and probably would be the death of him. This was a waging and mindless war that would end badly for all involved.

A war that would end with the deaths of hundreds.

No, no that did not sit well with Elena at all.

….

_Brothel—Right outside of town—that Night_

The brothel was bustling that night with excitement and sexual desires and tendencies. Girls of all sorts of different hair colors and states of undress walked around the place attending to the men that ogled them with dark and lusty eyes.

In the corner of the room was a large booth were only two men sat since this was the seating arrangement place specifically paid for-by one of them for their enjoyment.

One of them, a man with short, spikey dark blonde hair was enjoying the attentions of a brunette girl that seemed to be clinging right onto him. He kept whispering things in her ear and she giggled in response. His touches of her corseted bosom were becoming more and more frequent as the two of them consumed more alcohol.

This was Stefan Salvatore, respectable man from the east side of town and son to Giuseppe Salvatore himself.

At the other end of the booth sat a man with dark black curly hair. He watched as his younger brother enjoyed the attentions of the females that surrounded them. His striking blue eyes widened as he watched the activities of the place start to turn up a notch. Girls squealed with delight before being taken up the stairs to "private rooms" while others were flat out kissing and doing everything else. Gulping uncomfortably, he grabbed his small glass of whiskey before downing it in one gulp.

This was Damon Salvatore—eldest son of Giuseppe Salvatore known for his shyness and for, as his own father described him, a "disgrace to the family name."

Just at that moment, a young blonde girl with pigtails came over to him and sat right down on his lap. Damon looked shocked before turning a deep shade of red.

"And what are you doing over here sitting by your lonesome, love?" she lilted in a drunken southern voice.

Damon couldn't have been more horrified as the girl wrapped her arms around his neck, wiggling herself on his lap.

It was a moment before he spoke up. "Please stop that," he said in a whisper. The girl looked a little shocked.

"That's my job sir! I keep the gentlemen here company, and you could look like you could have some…loosening of the tension, if you take my meaning." She winked at him, her hand snaking its way down his clothed chest right down to his—

Without warning, he pushed her right off him and stood up. He was visibly shaking as the girl looked at him with surprise then disgust before storming off.

Stefan looked over at his brother in a weird glance. His brows furrowed at this rather unsettling display.

"Come on Damon, there's plenty of women here! No interest in any of them at all?" Stefan asked loudly, surprised. Some of the other men in the room were starting to stare at them.

Damon kept his head down, shaking his head back and forth before standing up and storming out of the brothel.

He heard a group of women giggling and laughing at his retreating form as he made his way outside. Ignoring them, he walked briskly away from the embarrassing establishment, trying to escape his own existence as he made his way back home, the other end of his misery in this life.

….

"What am I going to do with him, Anna?"

Elena and her friend Anna were walking along the edge of the woods in the line of trees on the outskirts of town. Anna was a little younger than Elena was but they had been friends for a long time. She had a shy, girly smile and a lovely face. Elena knew that Jeremy liked her, but didn't dare say anything about the issue. Elena was referring to her brother Jeremy in this instance.

"So…how do you see a solution to this issue?" Anna asked. She was a little nervous at being this close to the east side, especially one of the mansions. If they were caught…she shivered. She had heard plenty of horror stories about what happened to those who crossed the paths of one of the founding family members. She did not like to think about it anymore than necessary.

"I don't know but he's going to get himself killed! Kol will stop at nothing for revenge for his sister and he'd drag the rest of them down with him if that were what it took! I'm doing everything I can to decently put food on the table and make some type of living, but it's never going to be enough for Jeremy. He wants a cause to believe in and he thinks getting involved in this everlasting war between the rich versus the poor will solve that? Hmph,

Elena was no longer paying attention. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the form of a young man walking along the bridge of the river. He was walking slowly and looking down at his boots. It was when he stood up straight that Elena got a good look at him.

He was beautiful! Dark curly locks donned his head, his blue suit hugged him in all the right places for a man's body, his face looked like it had been carved and sculpted specifically for women's viewing pleasure. Even from a distance, Elena could tell this man was beautiful.

He didn't notice her at all as he stood at the railing of the bridge, looking down at the river below.

Elena had never been so mesmerized by a man before…until now.

Anna stepped over to her quietly, looking at the man that had caught Elena's eye. "I wouldn't Elena; he looks like he's from this side of town. He'd probably rather spit on us than look at us. Come on, let's go."

Elena reluctantly followed her but not without a second glance at the man leaning over the railing in a sad stance. He looked downright crestfallen! Elena wanted nothing more than to go to him and ask him what troubled him, but she risked death even being near this part of one of the founding family member's mansions.

Without another glance, she ran to catch up with Anna, trying to forget the sad-looking yet beautiful man she had just seen.

Without knowing why, she found herself wanting to meet him. However, it was wishful thinking: a poor girl meeting a hot, rich man no less.

Totally unfathomable.

…..


	4. Don't Worry, I'm Here

**Chapter 4—Don't Worry, I'm Here**

_One Week Later_

There hadn't been any fights for the past week, which Elena was eternally grateful for. She and Jeremy hadn't had any fights for a while as they continued along with their lives. She would work and so would he, they'd come home and put together their earnings then buy food, whatever they could.

Kol had stopped by once to see her and his own version of "checking up" on her. This meant he tried to flirt with her more, but Elena was having none of it. She was polite enough and it took everything in her not to yell at him for including Jeremy in his so-called "plans." But as usual, after awhile he smiled then gave up, making sure she wouldn't "need anything" then leaving. Elena just rolled her eyes before shoving him out the door.

She just hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid. Because if Kol involved Jeremy one more time, she was going to kill him!

…

_Salvatore Mansion—that Same Moment_

The Salvatore mansion was a big white house surrounded by trees, gardens and mazes. It was still chilly but getting close to spring time—birds were starting to fly, flowers were starting to bloom. Spring and love were in the air.

Well, for most living creatures.

Damon was walking slowly and dreading as he headed toward his father's office. Giuseppe Salvatore was not the kindest man in the world—he was one of the most glorious founding family members in the council. He was strong, hard-headed and if anyone dared cross him, their lives were living hells. Damon was no exception, even though he was the eldest son. Giuseppe disliked Damon greatly since he was a boy. He was too different. While Damon had black hair and blue eyes, Giuseppe and Stefan had green eyes and the same hair color, even the same style. Damon liked culture and art while Stefan and Giuseppe liked discussing politics and world domination.

No wonder Damon was an outcast in his own house. His father barely spoke to him and now he was being summoned like one of the servants. Not sure how this was going to go, he obeyed like always.

When he reached his father's door, he knocked timidly.

"Enter," boomed a voice from the other side. Opening the door, Damon stepped in after closing it behind him then walked to stand at attention to his father's desk.

His father was looking at some papers on his desk when he looked up.

"Damon…son of mine…I heard about your little fiasco down at the brothel last week."

Damon stared ahead. He didn't dare do eye contact with his father.

"Stefan seemed very concerned about you. You haven't touched a woman in a long time, not that I've seen. I'm beginning to question your…preferences."

Damon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I promise you father my intentions were honorable. I did not wish for the company of women that night, so I left early."

Giuseppe nodded but Damon could tell he didn't fully believe him. "I'm wondering Damon if you know where your loyalties and duties lie? With this upcoming battle with the west side still impending over our heads, I need all my family members on their guards. I can only imagine what would happen to you if you weren't-"

"You're being cryptic now father. Why not just tell me what you want?" Damon asked his father, still staring forward with his hands behind his back.

His father regarded him with a look. He knew Damon to be a hard man whenever he wanted to be. But it wasn't very often. He continued as if Damon hadn't interrupted him.

"There has been an offer made to the family. Are you familiar with the Starr family from Massachusetts?"

Damon nodded. They were one of the richest families in the northeastern part of the country. He couldn't remember the details but apparently they were rich oil founders and that's how they got their money.

"Well, I was talking recently with a man named Oron Starr—the founder and father figure of the family. He and I were talking pleasantly and I proposed a union between the Salvatore's and the Starrs. It would mean a lot to the fortune of this family and a merger would help not only your family Damon, but the entire east side as we know it."

Damon gave him a confused look. "A merger?"

This time Giuseppe came closer to Damon, putting a hand on his shoulder. This was only the second time Giuseppe had ever done this for Damon. With Stefan, he did it all the time and with a smile. With Damon all he got were grave expressions.

"You see Damon, Mr. Starr has only one daughter. A beautiful girl named Andie Starr. She is about your age, maybe a little older. But we were talking and he thought an…arranged marriage would be a convenient merger between the Salvatore's and the Starr's. It would provide his daughter with an arrangement and a nice merger with our families. And since your brother Stefan is too young for marriage now, you're it. You will be her husband by next month."

Damon couldn't breathe. His heart stopped beating as he heard his father speak more about how this merger would provide them with allies should their battle with the west side progress even more, how much this marriage would be providing for Giuseppe himself, and a whole bunch of other nonsense Damon didn't even hear. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat in his eardrums. And the impending doom this marriage made him feel like—who the hell was he kidding, he didn't know a damn thing about women! Now he was expected to be married within the month?

Scared out of his mind, he simply nodded when his dad dismissed him. He had assumed he'd nodded his head on his own accord and left the room in silence, simply staring ahead and forcing his feet to move forward.

….

Elena was sketching the falls near the border of the east and west side. She was on a hill trying to sketch the beauty of the waterfalls. While parts of it were loud and powerful, other times it was a sweet, gentle fall with the slightest of sounds. It was this that she was trying to capture the beauty of…

The sound of someone's running footsteps on the bridge above her brought her out of her trance. Startled, she quickly dropped her sketchbook and hid beneath the bridge. While she was technically on the border, she didn't want to be caught by someone from the east side. The footsteps continued running past the bridge she was on and past the woods towards the other falls.

Curious, she dropped her sketchpad and walked over to where the foot sounds had been. She continued walking along the bank of the river before she reached the loud falls. Looking over at the higher bridge, she saw a man standing above, looking down at the falls.

Squinting and looking closer, she gasped slightly.

It was the man she had seen there before! Same black, curly hair and everything! He was just as handsome as he was the first time she had seen him.

What in God's name was he doing on the bridge this time of day?

Suddenly, she saw him lift his leg up, bringing it over the edge of the railing…then the other one as his arms grasped the sides, moving himself over the river….

"NO!" she shouted, running towards the bridge when she realized his intentions. What the hell was he thinking?

The man stopped as he flung his head around to stare at the girl running towards him. Elena stopped a few feet away from him—she didn't want to scare him. When she held up her hands in careful trepidation, she got a good look at the man. His dark curly hair hung down his face in small waves, his dark clothes clung slightly to his body as he panted from the running.

But his eyes…his beautiful blue eyes made her breath catch in her throat. It was in that moment she realized this beautiful creature was scared and in deep, mental pain.

But she refused to let him kill himself. She refused to let him die for some unknown terrible reason!

"Don't jump…please," she pleaded in the smallest, kindest voice she could muster.

The man regarded her like she was insane before he looked down at the ragged and sharp rocks that were sure to meet him below. That would lead him to his death…

"You don't…realize what's happening," was the only thing he could whisper more to himself than her.

"Nothing can be so bad as to do something stupid like this," she whispered, bringing her hand closer to him. Damon almost flinched at the contact with this strange girl. A very beautiful girl with wide, brown eyes. Caring eyes...and a caring look that he certainly wasn't used to.

Elena continued in a soft voice, as if she was trying to calm a scared animal. "It's alright; I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you."

Damon shook slightly as he stared down at the thundering water of the falls. It was a very long drop down…"Nothing can help me now…nothing," he gulped as the extremity of his situation as well as the depths below seemed to be his only options.

Elena was trying to say something, anything that would help this poor man in need. "I know it feels like that now. Trust me…I've been there. But then there's the next day and the day after that and the day after that…it always gets better. Don't do something or take your life this way because it won't solve anything. You can't change your mind tomorrow if you do this!"

Damon turned around to look at her. Even in the sunset, he could really see her this time. Her dark brown hair shined in the remaining sunlight. She had the kindest, heart-shaped face he had ever seen before. The only person that rivaled her beauty was his mother—his deceased mother.

Something about her spoke to him on a deeper level…a connection he could feel between himself and this kind stranger who was risking her life to help him, merely a man.

Turning around slowly, he took her small hand in his. It was warm to the touch compared to his cold one.

She sighed in relief watching him change his mind. Smiling at him she asked him, "Thank you …my name is Elena. Do you have a name, sir?"

Damon gulped. Looking at her up and down, he could tell she was from the poor side of town. But it didn't matter—this true angel was standing here in front of him right here, right now. He didn't care what side she was from or what family—she was here for him in his time of need.

"I'm Damon…Damon Salvatore," he answered.

His heart broke when he saw her eyes widen with fear, surprise and…recognition?

He stepped over the side of the railing easily enough before holding his hands in front of himself. "It's alright; I'm not going to hurt you. I'm nothing like my family. As a matter of fact, I hate them! They are part of the reason I'm out here right now, with no one to help me at all. But you did," he continued, giving her an attempted smile.

"Well Damon Salvatore…do you have somewhere to be tonight or would you rather come stay on my side of town for awhile?"

…..


	5. Realizations

_**I am so sorry this is such a late update, school is in its final week for the summer and I've been so damn tired. But now it's winding down and I've finally finished the next chapter.**_

_**I'm also working on the next chapter for Haven in Your Arms. It's going to be one interesting chapter to read ; )**_

_**Enjoy and as always, review!**_

**Getting to Know You**

Damon walked beside Elena as they trekked through the woods. He had never been this far deep in them but he liked the solitude that it provided. The two of them walked side by side in silence.

It was Elena who broke it first. "So...would you mind telling me why the sudden burst of desperation, Damon?"

He gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you were hanging yourself over the highest point above the falls intending to jump. A man is usually pretty desperate if he wants to end his life and usually he succeeds. You hesitated because of me. So what brought on that madness?"

Gulping, he pretended to be straightening his suit. Truthfully he didn't know if he wanted to reveal everything to her just now. It was still considered a personal problem and he had only just met this youthful dame.

"Um….I thank you for your help earlier, but to be quite honest I'd rather not talk about it just yet. It's a personal problem," he said in a calm voice, hoping that would prevent her from asking more questions.

To his thankfulness, she didn't ask more questions. It was then that he got a good look at her wardrobe—she was wearing dark trousers, dark blue shirt with a vest over it. She looked totally different from the women he was used to seeing—all of them wore extravagant gowns and makeup that made them look like ghosts. He hated looking at women like that—all of them seemed so...fake.

They continued walking silence getting deeper and deeper into the forest. Damon wasn't even sure if he ever wanted to go back home now.

…

He could already tell this side of town was very different from his. The houses were close together, the streets were filthy, and all the people walking around this time of night wore dark cloaks and tried to stifle the cold from their bodies. It was absolutely depressing.

What's worse was when he saw a young little girl huddled under a roof of one of the shops shivering in the cold. She couldn't have been more than 5! He was beginning to hate his father more and more now for ignoring this horrible problem. He was grateful now more than he had ever been for having a fireplace in his bedroom and a bed to sleep in.

Not many people living here had those luxuries.

Elena smiled at him as she led him through a small alleyway and into a side door. Following her up a flight of stairs, she used a key from around her neck to unlock the door.

Upon entering the room, he noticed it was a small apartment. There was a small cot in the living room and another one in another corner. There was a small washroom in the middle with a door and a small kitchen was also right next to it.

This was the smallest house Damon had ever seen in his life! How she lived here was beyond him!

He looked around as Elena took his jacket from him. "I know it's nothing like what you're used to, but it's how we live on this part of town. Feel free to sit down anywhere."

Damon nodded just as the door burst open, making them both jump.

"Elena, Kol's getting ready for the ambush, I just stopped by for—" the young man said before he spotted Damon. Damon was in a somewhat fancy suit and very clean. This gentleman was covered in dirt and sweating profusely, his clothes just as bad.

"Who the hell is this, Elena?" he asked her, not taking his eyes off Damon.

Damon didn't know why, but he felt his heart sink low in his stomach. Of course, this kind maiden had a husband! And he didn't look at all happy to see him there. But that meant she wasn't single. _Damn it…_

"Jeremy, we have a guest. This is my friend…" she looked at him, her eyes wide indicating him to play along. There was no way he could use his real name in this part of town—they'd hang him for sure.

Damon stuck out his hand. "I'm Daniel, a long-time friend of Elena's. She offered me a small place to stay for just the one night. I'm just passing through," he lied through his teeth.

Jeremy reluctantly shook his hand. "Jeremy—Elena's brother."

_Brother! _The hope leapt up again in his chest. Her brother…thank God!

Jeremy still eyed him with an uncertain expression. "So as I was saying Elena-"

Elena shushed him. "Not now Jeremy, Daniel needs his rest. He needs to get ready for his journey tomorrow. How about you head on over to bed, alright?"

He nodded before heading to the washroom, still eyeing Damon with distrust. Damon could have sworn he saw him hold to fingers up to his eyes then to him before the door shut.

"Would you like a drink, _Daniel? _We don't have much but still it'd be rude to decline you," Elena asked him, trying to lighten the mood.

Damon simply nodded, realizing more and more how the other side lived. And the fascination in his mind.

….

Damon sat on the roof, still gazing at the beauty of the night sky and the lights of the town below. He felt horrible for the living conditions Elena and her brother were living in. He found himself wishing he could find some way to repay her for her kindness. She was too sweet of a girl to live like this. Too sweet of a girl for him…

Elena stood at the opening of the window, the chilly night air coming in slowly. But it didn't bother her because she noticed the incredible beauty of the man before her. His cerulean blue eyes glowed in the moonlight as he gazed outward at the world before him.

Elena just didn't get it—how could such a nice and sweetheart of a man want to commit suicide and end his life? There must be some reason as to why he contemplated it. None of it made much sense to her, then again she didn't know what it was like to be rich. She assumed he lived a life of luxury.

The artist in her couldn't wait to draw this man and she may not get another opportunity.

Too much of an opportunity to pass up, Elena carefully brought out her sketchpad and using her spare pencil, started drawing right away. His beauty seemed to radiate off him in vibes and she couldn't shake the feeling that this was her motivation, her new muse as she liked to call it. She felt like she wasn't moving her pencil and that it was moving on its own, drawing the beauty of the troubled man beside her.

He glanced at her in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Drawing you," she explained without stopping.

"Why? There can't possibly be anything interesting about me," Damon's brow continued to crease in confusion. He had no idea she was an artist before now and quite frankly, didn't know how to respond. She was drawing him of all the human beings on this planet? None of it made any sense.

Elena was having none of it. "Shush you! Now none of that talk. I'm an artist, in case I didn't tell you that earlier. Waitress by day, artist by night. So please keep looking outwards and ignore me. It's just be a quick sketch, I promise," she whispered the ending, her pencil still drawing away as the unmistakable picture of Damon seemed to come to life right off the page.

Damon, still more than appalled, sat numbly and continued looking straight ahead. He could feel a blush creep up to his cheeks at feeling so exposed and vulnerable having someone watching him this intently. As well as the growing bulge in his pants...this young girl was more than attractive and she was so sweet to him. He didn't plan on reacting to her this way but he couldn't help it. No one in his world had ever treated him with any kindness. Except his mother. He missed her terribly-she had died when he was eight years old from an illness. After that, the sweet world he once knew was shattered. He had been bullied and shattered, destroying whatever confidence he had when he was a boy. Since then, he was what everyone wanted him to be and he did it without question.

It seemed the more he succumbed himself to learning about her and this life, the more he wanted to be a part of it. And the more he wanted to just get up and leave his life on the east side.

This girl was changing his life. That much was certain.

When she was done, she handed the book to Damon. He was staring at a portrait of himself which felt strange. But there was no doubt that she was very talented. He wondered if she got paid for her work or anything.

"Damon?" she whispered.

He looked up. "Yes?"

"If you want to go back to your place, I understand. But it's too dark now and I was wondering if you wanted to stay here for the night? You can take my bed," she offered, her brown eyes sparkled in the light moonlight.

"Well, where will you sleep?" he asked, not wanting to intrude. His polite nature was taking over and trying to disregard the devil thoughts running through his mind at how incredibly sexy Elena looked in her long robe. He wondered what she looked like underneath…

Damon looked at her and gulped before trembling, nodding his consent. He really didn't want to go back home if he could help it. Anything to prevent his marriage to what's-her-name.

He just hoped he'd be able to control himself with a beautiful girl in the room.

….


	6. Dancing and Living

_**I promise I haven't forgotten this story! I'm still here, promise **____** So here's the next chapter for all of you, a nice long one. Next chapter for Haven in Your Arms should be up later this week. **_

_**Enjoy and as always, please review. **_

**Fun for the First Time**

Damon awoke the following morning, groggy but satisfied from the sleep. At first when he looked around, he thought he was still dreaming. He was in a small apartment on a small cot, he could see the sun starting to rise as he sat up in the bed. His shirt was off, his preferred way of sleeping.

Then he remembered the events of yesterday. It all could have been a dream for all he knew but he was grateful even if it turned out it was.

A noise startled him when he looked toward one of the doors. Lifting himself off the bed, he quietly walked toward the noise. He almost knocked but before he could stop himself, he pushed the door open a smidge.

The image caught his breathe.

Elena, the beautiful peasant girl that rescued him yesterday, was sitting in the small bathtub soaking herself in bubbles and water. Damon's eyes widened at the sight of her long brown hair shining in the wetness. She had her eyes closed as she ran a bar of soap up and down her extended leg, giving him a perfect view of her…

Stopping himself, he quietly ran back to main room almost panting for breath. Never in all his years had he seen a woman as beautiful as Elena was. She seemed like an angel, a fresh breath of life for him to consume. All senses of propriety and doubts about her social class, not that there were any to begin with, were gone.

He didn't know what he was going to do with himself, but he knew feelings were stirring that he hadn't felt in years. And he welcomed the change…

…

A few minutes later, Elena emerged fully clean and in new attire in a loose corset and a long green skirt. Damon jumped when she came out, trying not to look at her and blush.

"Elena…good morning," he breathed out.

She smiled kindly at him. "Good morning Damon. The washroom is free if you want to freshen up."

Damon smiled politely. "I'd love to." He hoped she didn't catch him earlier and it didn't look like she had any idea. He had never been so grateful in his life.

Once in the small washroom, he prepared a bath for himself and let his tired body soak up the hot steam and water it produced for him. Sitting in the same bathtub that _she _had been in just moments ago had an incredibly erotic effect on his body. He closed his eyes as his hand reached below the bubbly water and just let himself soak it all in and feel…

…

About an hour later, he and Elena were walking into town, him wearing a dark cloak to hide his looks. Elena wanted to show him her work and wanted him to hang out for awhile, and he had been more than happy to oblige. To be honest he wanted to see how the other side lived, how the poor survived.

"This is very different from my side of town Elena. Everything here is so…" he couldn't find the right words to speak without offending her.

"Dark and dreary? I know what you mean. There's not much here and usually someone here dies every other day from a number of reasons—murder, starvation, disease, famine, and any other impossible thing imaginable. It's terrible, I know but we make it through."

Damon nodded with a sad expression. He couldn't believe this sweet woman was succumbed to this lifestyle. He felt terrible about it—if it were up to him, he would shower her with everything she needed. He really wanted to do it—something he had never even thought about with all the other women he knew.

Oh God…he had a fiancé now. He had stopped himself from thinking about it but it hit him again like a ton of bricks….

Elena stopped dead in her tracks when she saw someone leaning against one of the poles.

A man wearing leather pants, a heavy dark jacket and slightly spikey hair approached them. Damon instantly got a bad feeling, of a feeling of a dark animal approaching prey, more like stalking them.

When the man reached them, he eyed Elena like a fox would a fat, juicy rabbit. "Elena love, how are you this lovely evening?" he asked her in an overly polite voice, grasping her hand in his, leaning down to kiss it.

Damon had to prevent himself from growling. Elena didn't look at all pleased—more or less, she looked disgusted with him. He could feel the tension radiating off of her in waves. It was obvious she did not like this man in front of them.

Elena cleared her throat before waving her hand at Damon. "Kol, this is my friend Daniel. He's visiting from out of town and staying with us for a few days. Daniel, this is Kol Mikaelson."

Damon eyed the hazel-eyed stranger in front of him. He understood exactly how Elena felt about him now—Kol's eyes were just as cold when he eyed Damon up, even more sinister than when he looked at Elena. They screamed ill intentions and deceit, making Damon very uneasy. The hatred he felt for this stranger wasn't going to dissipate any time soon.

However, polite manners drilled into him for years caused him to extend his hand. "Daniel Smith. Pleasure to meet you Kol," he spoke politely, in a firm voice.

Kol extended his own hand, putting it into his firm grip. They were both firmly gripping each other in a classic man-to-man deal. "Kol Mikaelson. The pleasure is all mine, I assure you," he sneered at Damon, his grin extra wide.

Damon didn't flinch or falter. He stared him down just as much knowing Kol's eyes didn't have nearly the effect they had as his blue ones did.

Elena cleared her throat. "Well, my my look at the time. Kol, I'm taking Damon to the tavern where I work. We should probably get going—I don't want to be late."

Kol barely glanced at her. "As you wish. Be careful now love, the streets are becoming more and more frightening at night now."

"Will do Kol, now we'd better get going," she answered, grabbing Damon's hand in her own and holding it as they trekked down the main dirt road along the shabby looking buildings.

…

The bar was loud, very loud complete with musicians and dancers, drunks and even some scantily clad women. Damon had seen things like this before, but for some reason it seemed better than before now.

Elena had gone off to work her waitressing shift, leaving Damon sitting alone at the bar. He was just taking in the surroundings and wondering how all of this could be possible.

A mug was placed in front of him. Looking at it then up, he realized Elena was smiling at him.

"Just have a few drinks and relax Damon. It will be good for you, trust me." And with that, she sauntered off to take other orders.

Damon just sat there, stunned as he eyed the mug in his hands. Then he just decided to go for it—why not? It's not like he knew anybody here who would remember him.

He took the drink and chugged it down in 2 gulps, enjoying the sensation it caused down his throat…

…

The council meeting was in session. Giuseppe and the rest of the founders gathered in the small room, looking at one another with somber expressions.

"We can't ignore this any longer, Salvatore. The west siders will rise against us and they're already plotting this right now. We must nip this before it starts. All our lives are at stake here."

Giuseppe sighed heavily, looking from one member to the other before he spoke.

"I agree. Where do we start?"

….

Damon clapped right along with the music. It had a nice beat to it he had to admit. He smiled when he saw Elena dancing with a little boy of only five or six. The boy was giggling as she danced with him back and forth, round and around in circles. Then he found a new feeling stirring inside his guts…jealousy? He was jealous of a little boy? That was crazy…

_Probably because the little boy with have the privilege he's never going to have—dancing with the beautiful Elena..._his mind thought for him. The boy was so close to Elena and Damon couldn't help but wish it was he that was dancing with Elena, that he could be the one that had his hands on her waist, everywhere…

The song ended and everyone in the bar clapped for the orchestra and instrument players. Damon saw Elena stop dancing with the little boy, leaning down and planting a small kiss on his cheek. Suddenly he saw her pointing at him then smiling at the boy, ruffling his hair.

Damon's eyes widened as he watch the boy walk straight towards him. The little boy approached Damon, looking at him with wide green eyes.

"Miss Elena says she wants you to come over to her. She wants to dance with you now," the boy squeaked.

Shocked, Damon smiled and told him thank you. Slowly getting up, he saw Elena smiling at him, pushing her hair behind her ear. It seemed an eternity before he finally reached her, her brown eyes sparkling.

"May I have this dance?" she smiled widely at him, grabbing his hand and pulling his body close to hers. He fumbled with his answer, not knowing what to say…

"I don't know this dance Elena, I'm afraid I'm a-" he stuttered.

"I'll let you in on a little secret Damon…I don't know the steps either. Just go with the rhythm of the music, let it flow through you. Do what makes you feel good…" she shouted about the music, twirling her body around and bringing his hands over her body.

Damon didn't know what came over him in that moment. He could blame it on the few beers he'd had, or the music, or even the strange atmosphere. But in that moment in time, nothing mattered to Damon. He started twirling her around, swinging their bodies as they danced to the music. He saw her eyes widen in surprise then delight at the sight of him letting loose.

Soon they found themselves in center stage, twirling her over then swinging her back to his side, smirking at her. Elena was so happy at seeing Damon so carefree and having fun. She loved the feeling of his hands around her body—it was affecting her more than she let on.

The song ended just as another one began. Instead of stopping like she thought he would, he grabbed her hand and started twirling her around the room again. The rest of the dancers and the laughing spectators faded as Damon and Elena found themselves lost in their own little world, not having a care in the world. Nothing mattered to them now, not that he was from the east and she from the west, the poor and rich didn't exist now.

It was just the two of them forgetting everything else except each other.

…..

Damon was still laughing from the combination of being tipsy from drink and from all the dancing he had done that night. He was sure he made a complete fool of himself yet no one cared. He normally would have been horrified at himself, but everyone was just as hysterical. He didn't care and it was an amazing, freeing feeling.

Elena laughed right along with him, her hand in his swinging both their arms back and forth. Neither of them seemed to have a care in the world. She had just as good of a time as he did. It was nice to see this stranger, this man let loose. It was very different from when she first met him about to jump. A very good change indeed…

"I'm glad you had a good time tonight Damon. It's so nice to see you smile and laugh for a change," she said, still giggling.

Damon laughed too. "It feels good to smile and laugh. I haven't done this for so long, I can't even remember the last time…well, let's just leave it at that."

Elena's smile faltered. That was such a sad revelation. She couldn't understand the people who didn't enjoy life to the fullest because, especially in her life, no one knew when it was going to end. It could be today, tomorrow, next week, anytime at all. And she was seeing more of the gentler side of this troubled man than she cared to admit.

She decided now was as good a time as any. Pulling Damon to him, her chest against his once more, she stopped their walking. She saw his eyes widen in surprise at the bold gesture. She wasn't sure, but she thought she felt something else growing against her belly, something he normally would try to hide.

"I have a secret place Damon. I want to show you my other artistic works. Would you be willing?" she whispered, looking into his glowing, bright eyes that seemed to mirror her own.

She saw him gulp slightly. "I would be honored, Miss Gilbert."

Smiling, she grabbed his hand and the two of them headed right into the dark forest together.

….

_How is this? It's going okay and faster than I originally planned, so that's fine with me : ) Next chapter Elena will be showing him her "secret studio"—where she draws naked men. Should be interesting. I want to get to the chapter of her drawing him nude though, that's going to be a cool chapter._

_Hope you enjoyed it and review please!_


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